


tangerine trees and marmalade skies

by jolybird



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Feuilly Week, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Minor Enjolras/Grantaire, Rocky Horror, The Beatles - Freeform, also minor enjolras/grantiare/combeferre if you squint and decide to see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:48:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolybird/pseuds/jolybird
Summary: For five years now Feuilly has come in second in the annual Halloween Costume contest. For five years now he has lost to the same guy. This year, he's determined to finally win but then Combeferre throws his plans into chaos when he brings the guy to a Les Amis de l'ABC meeting and he kinda never leaves.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Feuilly week! A very very very last minute Feuilly Week lol. Featuring Too Many Halloween Costumes, Terrible First Names, and Courfeyrac/Feuilly because I couldn’t write it platonically whoops. This is one of the silliest things I've ever written, which I feel is saying a lot coming from me lol. 
> 
> Title comes from, of course, Lucy In the Sky with Diamonds because it was stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this whole wandering thing, as you do.

Raphael Feuilly stood atop a makeshift stage, shortlisted for the winner of the Annual Halloween Costume Contest hosted by the community center he and his friends volunteered at. He had been entering it for years, mostly at the insistence of his kids (he tutored for École primaire students), but more recently because he was fucking determined to win. Several other people stood on stage with him, they were the last category, Adult, and, honestly, he had seen better craftsmanship in the toddler division. 

Not to be rude, but he had worked hard on his costume. He played Assassin’s Creed for hours, watching how the fabric moved and how the light hit it, trying to gage what type of material it was, comparing that to what it would have been made out of historically..  He spent lunch breaks and late nights sewing buttons and the  _ vest _ . He hated the vest but he was so proud of it. 

In the crowd, Joly and Bossuet stood in mermaid man and barnacle boy costumes, giving him identical thumbs up and overly enthusiastic grins.   


There was something about the way Bossuet looked so sure this was the year he was finally going to win, that Feuilly could almost feel the same breeze that swept through the courtyard the past five years.  The crisp fall breeze of defeat. 

“Are you ready for the winner!” the MC for the evening was one of the afternoon receptionists he never actually met, Elise or something similar? She was dressed as some sort of misguided fairy with store bought wings. The crowd cheered, Joly and Bossuet loudest of all, and then--

“And the winner is--Raphael!” 

By Raphael, she didn’t mean Feuilly. Of course she didn’t. After five years, why would they break tradition now? She meant Raphael as in the man standing next to him, face, shoulders, arms, and legs covered in green body paint, a red bandana around his eyes, a turtle “shell” and loincloth his only clothes. Of course he’d lose to a teenage ninja turtle with great thighs. Just like he lost to Frank-N-Furter last year, Santana from Glee the year before, Russell from Up before that and Walter White. The only thing Feuilly knew about this man was that he had really shitty taste in costumes. 

The man let out a laugh that was dangerously adorable and Feuilly focused on Joly and Bossuet who were traitors and cheering for the man who had defeated him for the fifth time now. Joly’s attention switched from the ninja turtle back to Feuilly and he was suddenly aggressively smiling. For a moment, Feuilly was taken aback but then he realized what his friend was trying to tell him. 

Just in time for the turtle to turn and congratulate him for coming in second, Feuilly plastered an enthusiastic smile on his face. “Next year then?” the turtle laughed, much more adorably than any turtle had a right to, and then Bossuet and Joly were dragging him from the stage. 

“I thought you were going to assassinate a ninja turtle in front of all these kids!” Joly laughed in his ear. 

“He’s just a teenager!” Bossuet cried, leaning heavily on Feuilly’s shoulder. 

“Fee! Fee!” 

Joly and Bossuet both let go of him so Feuilly could pick up the tiny little tooth fairy that had just thrown herself at him. “Your costume is so good! You’re such a good pirate!” 

“Thanks, Annah, have you found anyone with a loose tooth yet?” 

“James has one but he won’t let me pull it out.” Annah pouted, crossing her arms and Feuilly laughed as her mother walked over. 

“Sorry. Annah, come here, Mr. Feuilly is probably busy.”

He glanced over to his friends who shook their heads, “we don’t have to be at the party for hours still, I think there are still some pumpkins if you want to go carve one.” 

“Can we?” Annah cried and wormed her way out of Feuilly’s arms to the ground, “Come on Fee and Fee’s friends--let’s go make pirate pumpkins!”  

 

* * *

Feuilly gave his defeat some time to wear off, he didn’t think about costumes all throughout November and it wasn’t until he and Enjolras were walking past a post-Christmas sale that he stopped to look at a jacket thinking it would work for a Star-Lord costume. 

Without looking back or breaking his stride, Enjolras said, “no” and so Feuilly continued after him and pushed the thought aside. 

But from then on, everything was fair game. 

 

* * *

Feuilly was spread out across Joly and Bossuet’s couch, his feet propped up on Grantaire’s hip as he tried to steal a quick nap before their friends got home with dinner. Musichetta had X-Factor UK on the television and the three were currently laughing hysterically at a particularly over the top terrible performance. As Feuilly’s laughter drifted off, Grantaire lifted his head to glare at him, “No. You will lose if you do some lame X Factor UK contestant.” 

“I wasn’t thinking of it.” he protested but Musichetta laughed. 

“Look at that hat, you already know where the materials are in your flat to make it.” 

“I think I hear Bossuet and Joly.” Feuilly said to change the topic and his traitor friends just laughed.  

 

* * *

“Be  Edward from American Horror Story.” Jehan offered and Joly narrowed his eyes. Feuilly leaned forward, rested his chin on his fist. Across the room, Enjolras and Grantaire were discussing who was going to drop the toys off and pose for a publicity picture (neither wanted to take credit for their small treasure trove of toys but they were the only ones available). 

“Who’s that.” 

“Okay. Picture this--big powdered wig, and then black empty eye sockets--”

“No! Don’t make him be a ghost.” Joly protested. “He works on it for months he will show up at my house in the make up and I will die! I will die, Jehan and then  _ I’ll _ be the ghost.”

Without missing a beat, Jehan placed his hand over Joly’s who was a second from ripping it away dramatically. “Combeferre and I will get the ouija board out to communicate.” 

Combeferre, who had just walked in with another man, glanced over to them at the sound of his name. 

“Combeferre, promise me that if I die you won’t let Jehan try to contact my spirit thought an ouija board!” 

Combeferre just turned back to the man next to him, he was shorter than him with black curly hair and dimples that Feuilly could make out from where he was, “so these are my friends.”

“They’re exactly what I expected.” he said and then turned and told Jehan in the same matter-of-fact tone,  “I don't want in in the ouija.” 

“I like him.” Joly said as Jehan booed. Feuilly rolled his eyes and glance over to where Bahorel was standing by the free coffee (god bless Musichetta). He did a double take--Bahorel was frantically waving him over. He left Jehan and Joly with Joly overdramatically bemoaning that his only source of support leaving (Feuilly wasn’t worried Bossuet or Grantaire would appear shortly, called by the sounds of his distress). 

Behind him, Joly’s voice was starting to be overcome with laughter and Combeferre chuckled a moment later, signaling that Combeferre and his friend had come to his rescue. 

Jehan said something darkly and then Combeferre’s friend laughed. 

Feuilly found himself freezing mid step--that laugh. He turned around, his movements carefully calculated to appear casual. The man’s grin was blinding and--he could picture him in green body pain. 

Oh shit. 

Two million people in Paris and he had to be friends with the friend of Raphael/Frank-N-Furter/Santana/Russell/Walter White. 

He turned back around and shut his eyes for a breath. He had to focus on not screaming. 

“Are you alright?” Bahorel was suddenly in front of him when he opened his eyes and two girls who was practically inhaling their coffee were watching him with their heads slightly tilted. 

“Fine.” Feuilly said, ignoring whatever strange thing his voice and face were doing. 

Bahorel glanced over his shoulder, and then slowly looked back to Feuilly and nodded slowly, “yeah, okay.” He took Feuilly by the arm and introduced him to the girls and the new blend of coffee Musichetta was trying out on them. 

He stayed at the coffee stand with Bahorel, Abigail, and Wiatte until Enjolras found him, uncharacteristically beaming. “Come on, you have to meet Courfeyrac. He’s the one from the Poli Sci class I was telling you about. The one whose book was charred?” 

Feuilly hummed and he hoped it came off as  _ ah about time _ rather than  _ of course that’d be him _ . Enjolras sat him down at the table by the window where  _ Courfeyrac  _ was leaning against Combeferre who was texting distractedly. Feuilly was going to have to apologize for absolutely destroying his boyfriend next Halloween. 

As Feuilly sat, Courfeyrac smiled widely at him, “You must be the legendary Feuilly.” 

“Is it the plaid that gave me away because I don’t actually wear it as often as everyone thinks I do. I don’t actually own any.” 

Combeferre chucked and Feuilly had to stop himself from biting his cheek, what a stupid thing to say. Of course he knew who he was because Enjolras must have left to go find him. 

Courfeyrac glanced down to the red plaid shirt he wore, ‘Who’s that then?” 

“Mine.” Enjolras said flatly, “he was cold.” 

“He’s always cold. That’s why he quit smoking.”  Grantaire added from the adjacent table and Joly turned around sharply, “What?” 

Feuilly shrugged, “It’s been a couple months now.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything!” he demanded. 

Shrugging again, he threw in an opened handed gesture as a bonus, “didn’t want to jinx it. 

Joly frowned and then smiled, “Well, Congrats. I’m buying you a drink later.” 

“Does it count if your girlfriend owns the cafe?” 

Bossuet, Grantaire and Joly all chorused  _ yes.  _ Honestly, Feuilly shouldn’t had gotten so much shit when he admitted a couple years ago that it had taken him an entire year to realize who was dating who. (He did, however, deserve all the teasing he got when he let Bossuet convince him for an entire  _ month _ that he was dating Enjolras, the latter of whom had been completely unaware the entire time). 

“Well--it’s nice to finally meet you Feuilly. I’m Courfeyrac. Combeferre and I grew up together but then we tragically got separated when my parents got divorced but we were reunited at our sisters’  engagement party two April’s ago and we’ve been back together ever since.” 

“You don’t have to pitch our life story to everyone. Besides, he already knows.” Combeferre complained, pushing him off him. 

It took Feuilly a moment but then he remembered Combeferre telling him about the aforementioned engagement party and, damn, Courfeyrac was turning out to be multiple people rolled into one. But at least now he knew he wasn’t Combeferre’s boyfriend. Not that it mattered or anything. “I grew up with Bossuet,” he offered in response. 

“Yeah.” Enjolras agreed, his tone flat, “he’s the reason for that entire table.” He indicated Grantaire, Joly and Bossuet’s table with his thumb and Grantaire tilted his chair back to pat him on the shoulder. 

“We would have found our way here eventually.” 

Enjolras rolled his eyes and laughed as he caught Grantaire when his chair toppled over. 

 

* * *

“What about--” 

“No.” 

“But--” 

“You and Grantaire have spent the morning marathoning One Tree Hill, any ideas that you have right now are going to be shit.” 

“Holy shit Musichetta.” Grantaire dolled, watching her from over the back of the couch, “that was savage.” 

She just crossed her arms, “I don’t ever want to know where you and Joly picked up those terrible American accents.” 

Feuilly frowned, and yeah, a Space Jam Bugs Bunny costume would probably stray further into the furry territory than he really wanted to go. 

 

* * *

Feuilly wasn’t sure how long he was going to get away with keeping his identity secret from Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac identity secret from his friends. Several times he felt that Combeferre for sure knew (he had to right? He was Courfeyrac’s friend and friends talk about Halloween costume contests) but he never said anything about it, which was decidedly non-Combeferre. 

His hope that Courfeyrac wouldn’t become a staple in their meetings was pretty much crushed immediately. Within a month he joined their group chat and within two Feuilly was seeing him at least once a week. 

He was funny and kind and really good with making their plans happen. He was even a proven peacekeeper during the Great April Fools Bahorel Combeferre Showdown. It had only lasted a half hour (compared to the Enjolras and Jehan Snow Shovel Incident that started on Bastille Day and lasted a  _ month _ ) but everyone had silently agreed to never speak about the horrors they witnessed.  Courfeyrac had seamlessly wrangled them back into peace and Feuilly and at least half of his friends had fallen in love.   


So Courfeyrac was now a staple in food pantry runs and appointment carpools and Feuilly was rapidly seeing him less as that asshole who keeps beating him with shitty costumes and more as a friend and the guy who once snorted a milkshake and got them kicked out of three McDonald’s in one night. 

Their secrets somehow managed to stay hidden until  _ June _ . It was honestly a feat since they were all gossips but whatever, he chalked it up to coincidence. It happened after a Les Amis meeting, when Feuilly was starting to drift off. Courfeyrac and Jehan were trying to organize a fundraiser to buy metro tickets but the summer breeze was so comfortable, Feuilly just pulled his sweater’s hood down over his face, crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat intent on getting a quick nap before he headed home. 

When Courfeyrac’s voice trailed off no one really paid much attention, he was prone to getting lost in his thoughts as badly as the rest of them. Feuilly kept his eyes shut and debated if the others would let him sleep or if they’d dump water on him. Jehan next to him had a quarter of a glass that by this point had gone lukewarm. 

“Holy fuck, I knew I recognized that mouth from somewhere!” Courfeyrac shouted so loud Joly gave a little cry of shock but Feuilly didn’t even flinch. 

“Is Deep Throat in this room?” Bossuet asked much like he would ask about Bigfoot and honestly Feuilly didn’t want to even know.   


Jehan gasped and his voice was quiet, “Oh my god. Did you sleep with him? Why is he looking at you like that.” 

His foster mom’s birthday was coming up and he was still a few pot holders behind. If he finished quilting one tonight, however, he’d still have plenty of time before he saw her later that week. 

Jehan elbowed him sharply, “Feuilly.” 

Feuilly opened his eyes to see Courfeyrac and the rest of the room staring at him, “Uh--what?” 

“Arno Dorian.” Courfeyrac said, sort of breathlessly. 

There was a beat during which Feuilly’s heart sank and then Joly screamed. There was a crash and then Bossuet started laughing loudly. The pair of them began hitting each other to get the other’s attention. 

"What the shit does assassin's creed have to do with Feuilly giving Courfeyrac a blowjob in London?” 

“What the fuck.” Feuilly gasped, turning to Enjolras who looked back at him evenly. 

“Is that not what’s going on?” 

“No!” he cried and turned to Courfeyrac who was blushing, Bahorel, seated next to him, looked at him like he had never seen him blush before in his life. 

“Okay so like--that thing in London never happened  _ Bossuet _ and why the hell did you tell Enjolras?”

“--it was funny,” he whispered. 

“I refuse to believe that didn’t actually happen. You  _ always _ flinch when Lady Gaga comes on the radio.” Enjolras told him flatly. 

“It didn’t.” Courfeyrac hissed, scandalized. 

Grantaire leaned back in his seat, looking at them all from over the rim of his glass, “Okay so Feuilly isn’t DT, why the fuck do you recognize his mouth?”

“Oh shit--” Combeferre blurted out, laughing a bit, “you were Arno Dorian for Halloween and--oh my god. Courfeyrac you’re the kid he’s always bitching about. I didn't put two and two together I can't believe this.” 

“Kid? I’m older than you.” Courfeyrac frowned, glaring at Feuilly pointedly. 

“How long did it take to get all that body paint off.” Feuilly countered, decidedly  _ not _ looking at his thighs. 

Instead of answering, Courfeyrac just paused and looked at him suspiciously, “Why aren’t you surprised by this?”   


“Well.” Feuilly pressed his lips together and Jehan turned to look at him with wide, interested eyes.  

“Holy shit you knew who I was and didn’t say anything?” Courfeyrac demanded right before he took a deep, scandalized breath, “Oh my god you were planning on getting close to me so you could finally take my title.” 

Feuilly suppressed rolling his eyes but next to him, Jehan didn't. “You don’t have a title,” was all Feuilly managed to say. 

“I cannot  _ believe  _ this.” Courfeyrac whispered and then turned and swept from the room. 

Jehan turned and looked to Feuilly, “That’s really rude.” 

“I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make things weird.” He kicked him beneath the table, punctuating each word. 

“You mentioned his thighs five times that night, you already made things weird.” Joly told him helpfully and Feuilly’s stomach sank as Combeferre tried to cover up a laugh by clearing his throat. Enjolras looked low key delighted. 

“Yeah you totally have a disgusting crush on him. That’s the weirdest thing.” Bossuet agreed and Bahorel nodded in agreement. It was great to see his friends united like this. Really. 

Feuilly glanced desperately towards the doorway to make sure Courfeyrac wasn't about to sweep back into the room, “no I don't you guys.” 

Grantaire and Bahorel immediately imitated him. 

He was still blushing when Courfeyrac swept back into the room, two coffees in his hands. He sat down next to Feuilly and slid the coffee over, written on the side was  _ soon to be six time second place winner _ and Feuilly glared as he tasted the dirty chai latte. Which was of course his favorite.

He looked away quickly, but caught Enjolras’ eye and he raised his eyebrows suggestively. Courfeyrac sputtered next to him. Sometimes Feuilly deluded himself and thought he wasn't as traitorous as the rest of his friends. 

 

* * *

Despite his ridiculous theatrics and several doors slammed in each other’s face over the next couple of weeks as the other happened upon them trying to figure out what their winning costume was going to be, Courfeyrac ended up knocking on his door at nine in the morning with two giant shopping bags filled with feathers. 

“I’m doing Pit some Smash Brothers and I can’t do the wings. I thought I could but--it’s impossible. It’s Tinkerbell all over again.” Feuilly opened his mouth to ask about  _ that  _ costume choice but Courfeyrac dropped the bags on his table, “my sister’s costume. Of course I’m not going to rock a dress that short.” 

Feuilly carefully kept his mouth shut and instead set about trying to figure out what the hell Courfeyrac was trying to do with the wings.  
  


* * *

  
As soon as Enjolras and Grantaire walked into the restaurant he bartended at, he tapped his hands lightly onto the bar, “Beetlejuice.”   


“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice?” Grantaire finished and then looked around expectantly. 

“I thought you were protesting painting your skin this year?” Enjolras waved to Iris who was the hostess tonight. He frequented the restaurant ever since Feuilly got the job and seeing as he mostly came when they weren’t busy, he had gotten to know the rest of the front of the house. Iris held up two menus and Enjolras nodded. 

Feuilly kept his reaction to that carefully hidden (did their years of weirdness with each other culminate in a date or was this just normal for them?) and scrunched up his nose at the paint instead, “I forgot. Do you guys want drinks or are you just going to argue over a bottle of wine again?” 

“I already have a red picked out for them.” Iris told him and then led his friends away. He didn’t think they were here  _ that _ often for Iris to have a wine picked out for them but whatever.   


Throughout the two hours the pair stayed, Feuilly only wandered over three times with costume ideas (they really were having a dead night and no, he couldn’t tell what was going to between them and so he was going to stay well out of it). Grantaire was particularly into recreated the Beatles’ Sargent Pepper outfits, but Feuilly didn’t quite realize just how for it he was until he stopped a Les Amis meeting a few days later to poll the room. Courfeyrac wasn't there, which he was sure was deliberate on Grantaire’s part. 

In the end, his friend’s decided his costume. They were just too enthusiastic and he loved it. 

Within about five minutes, Enjolras and Jehan both volunteered to be Paul and John and both thought it was a great idea. Jehan he understood but Enjolras was still largely a mystery. 

Grantaire tried to call dibs on Ringo but Musichetta cryptically told him she already had his costume picked out. Enjolras ended up crashing on his couch after they watched Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band twice.  ****

 

* * *

Courfeyrac sat down next to him and slid a bag over, “I went to visit my grandparents over the weekend and--”

Feuilly opened the bag to see several yards of gold cording, “this is perfect. Thank you. How much?” 

Courfeyrac shrugged him off, “don't worry about it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, it’s payment for helping me with the wings.” 

“Thank you, really. Thank you.” 

Courfeyrac smiled warmly, “it’s just some cording.” 

 

* * *

Their Ringo came wandering into a meeting a few days later with Courfeyrac and a short brunette girl who was proudly sporting a black eye. 

“Guys, this is Cosette and Marius. Ask her about her eye.” 

Bahorel leaned forward so quickly his feet slammed into the floor, “Please tell me it was a bar fight.” 

“I helped rescue some dogs from a hoarding situation a few weeks ago and when I went back to see them, one jumped up and head butted me right in the eye. Needless to say, I adopted him as soon as I got an ice pack.” 

Courfeyrac was obviously super proud of both of them, “She’s literally a Disney princess and this Marius, her Disney prince.” 

“Please don't tell them about the shoe.” Marius whispered and Feuilly laughed despite himself. 

“Did you find one of her shoes and put a picture of it on Craigslist missed connections.” Jehan rested his chin on his fist and smiled at the thought of it. 

“Of course not.” Cosette smiled, taking his hand, “he was much more proactive. He went to the parks and some cafes and I found him outside the Louvre's Starbucks actually with my shoe and we’ve been together ever since.” 

Enjolras put his hand up like he was going to interrupt but then he just sort of shook his head and gestured to some free seats. 

Marius ended up next to Feuilly and he smiled, “Welcome to Les Amis de l’ABC.”  
  


* * *

Bossuet had fallen asleep against his shoulder at some point he and was snoring lightly as they discussed who was going to pick up the kitchenware they were giving away next month. Summer was slowly fading and autumn was starting to creep in. Feuilly had his costume nearly done and was slowly working on the other two. 

“I can come over later and you can teach me how to do the shoulder things.” Jehan said as he tipped back a glass of cider with worrying determination. 

Before Feuilly could ask if everything was alright, Marius leaned forward, interested, “What shoulder things?” Feuilly pulled up a picture of the outfits on his phone and Marius laughed and asked who was being who. When he found out he was a man down, he chewed his lip for a moment before tilting his head, “If you want, I could be Ringo. If you need someone.” 

Feuilly grinned, “hell yeah.” 

“I can only make it to the party though, I have to see my Grandfather that morning and I won't make it back until late.” 

“That's fine. The other two either can't make it or refuse to come so it’s just going to be me versus Courfeyrac again.” 

“Next year, I think he wants to take the competition to group.” Jehan told him as he eyed Feuilly’s glass. 

Feuilly glanced to Combeferre who was seated next to Jehan was who was totally eavesdropping. He tried to ignore them but laughed and gave himself away. 

“You’re really into this aren't you?” Marius asked, looking up pictures on his phone. 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s an understatement.” Jehan took Feuilly’s cider and Feuilly decided he was coming over after the meeting and let him have it. 

Marius smiled, “cool. Here’s my number so I can get started on my costume right away.” 

“You’re trying to subvert the competition!” Courfeyrac said as he burst into the cafe and Bossuet jolted awake. 

“None of us are going to be there.” Jehan laughed at his tone but it didn't stop Courfeyrac from glaring at him, Enjolras and Marius reproachfully. They had only been friends for a couple months now but Courfeyrac was rapidly becoming his favorite. 

“My train doesn't get in until nine!” Marius protested and Courfeyrac delicately placed a hand over his chest. 

“Et tu, Marius.” He whispered and Feuilly couldn't quench his smile, “I thought you were my friend.” 

“They needed a Ringo!”

“The betrayal.” Courfeyrac, now that he had made his entrance, went to sit with Bahorel. “Well. Not even stealing my friends will make me falter, Monsieur Feuilly--if that’s even your real name.” 

“It’s not. When I was dropped off at the fire station that was the first name I saw and I panicked when they firefighters found me and that’s what I told them. I don't remember anything before then.” 

“What?” Caught totally off guard, he glanced around to the others, before looking back at him, “did I just unlock your tragic backstory.” 

“Yeah, how’s it feel?” 

“If you think I'm going to go easy on you because you’re an orphan--”

“Guys, it’s September.” 

“And yet the betrayal squad already knows they can't make it, sounds like something someone who was planning an ambush would say.” 

Feuilly snorted and ignored Courfeyrac as he laughed, “Wait are you just now realizing I have the other three Beatles?” 

“Yeah? Why? How long has this been going on?” 

“From the start.” Feuilly said slowly and Courfeyrac decided to turn his attention to Enjolras for  _ totally lying to him _ .  

 

* * *

A month later Feuilly awoke covered in confetti. To be specific, it was painstakingly hand cut pictures of badgers. Bahorel must have made it to class this week. 

He could feel the imprint of material on his cheek and this was a new low for him.

“This is why you don't do five shots of fireball and hand sew.” Bossuet said, leaning on the doorframe. 

“What are you doing in my flat?” Feuilly grumbled in response. 

“I sent Bahorel off to school and made breakfast.” 

“Did you bring some pastries from Joly? Also why was Bahorel here?”

“Don’t know, he wasn’t here when I went to bed and of course I did.” 

“Chocolate croissants?” 

“Am I a monster? Of course.” 

“Yes,” he sighed and pushed himself up to his feet.  “This is why we’ve been friends for so long.” 

“Are you almost done?” 

“I'm done with mine and nearly done with the others.” 

“Are you ready for the Rocky Horror viewing tonight.” 

“No.” 

Bossuet laughed, “I hope Courfeyrac’s wearing his outfit and he brings his award.” 

“Oh my god get out of my flat.” Feuilly tilted his head back and groaned as Bossuet walked away to get breakfast. 

Later that night Feuilly walked into the party behind Grantaire, Enjolras and Joly, the three of whom automatically froze and Joly started screaming, jumping up and down, “Holy  _ shit-- _ ” 

Enjolras turned his head and Feuilly saw the faint blush on his cheeks. Who the fuck had gone overboard on their costume--if Musichetta had her tits out-- Enjolras shifted his weight and he could see Combeferre in the corset. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ you have great legs.” he laughed as Joly rested his head against his shoulder. 

Courfeyrac, in his old Frank-N-Furter costume, clapped his hands together, “that's what I said.” 

“That’s what he said all his life.” 

“Are  _ you _ deep throat?” Bossuet asked, half buried under pile of boas and Marius. 

Combeferre whipped the boa around his shoulders and turned away, giving them all a view of his ass. Enjolras leaned into Grantaire and groaned. 

Grantaire didn’t even look down at him, “If we’re gonna have a rocky horror threesome tonight, let me get some shots in first.” 

Enjolras muttered something under his breath and Feuilly pulled Joly into the room. Joly dragged him and pushed him nearly on top of Courfeyrac and his thighs. Both were ignoring whatever their friends were doing. Feuilly was pretty sure Combeferre wasn’t but given the exchange, he was pretty sure somebody else was going to have to step up and get some answers. He had a feeling it was going to be him but hopefully he could convince Courfeyrac or Bahorel. He really hated nagging on his friends. 

“There’s too much sexual tension here.” Bahorel complained. 

“You can come back with me tonight.” Jehan winked, his legs thrown off over the back of the couch. 

“Did I say I'm in the mood for skeleton orgies?” 

Jehan gasped, offended and Joly waved him off, “Go home with Feuilly he still--” 

“--Has four costumes to finish and Halloween is in four days.” Courfeyrac said and everyone looked to Feuilly. 

“How did this happen.” Cosette whispered, looking at Feuilly alarmed. 

“ _ Mine’s _ done. Courfeyrac is including his own which is his own damn fault because I told him the wings were going to be a bitch weeks ago.

“I am so sorry.” Combeferre said, still standing in the middle of the living room, still wrapped in about three boas. “I introduced him to everyone, I did this. I doubled our Halloween problem.”

“Either sit down or start doing the floor show, honey.” Musichetta, armed with two big bowls of popcorn sat down in between her boyfriends and popped a piece into her mouth. Combeferre laughed, blushing a little, and went to sit next to Bahorel, who might have been dressed as Eddie but it almost might just have been a coincidence.     


Feuilly ended up falling asleep about halfway through and woke up cuddled against Courfeyrac who had also nodded off. Enjolras started giggling once he realized he was awake and Feuilly spent the next five minutes trying to smother him with a pillow without also waking Courfeyrac.

 

* * *

Feuilly jumped to his feet when he heard Courfeyrac’s voice. Marius was still giving himself a pep talk as he tried to sew a straight line. Enjolras had put his head down several minutes ago and honestly might have fallen asleep. 

Courfeyrac’s eyes lit up when he saw him and Feuilly knew he was covered in lime green threads. 

“Please help me. Marius is going to sew through his finger and Enjolras is unconscious.” 

“Unconscious like?”

“He quit trying to sew buttons.” 

Laughing, Courfeyrac threw his arm around Feuilly’s shoulders and walked him back down the hall, “of course, anything for my favorite British band.”

“I thought one direction was your favorite British band?”

“...fuck.”  
  


* * *

Halloween morning Feuilly woke curled half around Courfeyrac on the floor of Courfeyrac’s flat. The other man stirred and so Feuilly kissed him on the cheek teasingly, “ready to finally lose today?” 

He just grumbled and slowly sat up as he looked at his phone,  "you're going to be late for work if you don't hurry." 

Feuilly caught the time and cursed loudly. 

"Do you want me to drop Marius' outfit off to him?" 

"No it's on the way--" Feuilly scrambled around, making sure he had everything. 

"See you tonight!" Courfeyrac called as Feuilly raced out of the apartment like some harried one night stand. 

Feuilly spent most of the day thinking about what if neither of them won or if they didn't get the top two places again this year. His friends texted him several times telling him to Chill but whatever, he and Courfeyrac had been leading up to this moment all year. Of course he was worried about what was going to happen. 

When he was standing on the make shift stage later that night with only Courfeyrac standing next to him, his worries seemed pretty dumb. Nynette smiled between them and groaned good-naturally, "if this is your first time here, these two have been first and second for years but let's see if this is the year of the British Invasion." She opened the orange envelope that contained the winner (they were Very professional and had a panel of five judges that wrote their pick down on a piece of paper and they actually sealed the envelope before it was passsed to Nynette). 

Courfeyrac glanced to Feuilly and winked and Feuilly felt a blush rush to his cheeks but then--

"It is! George wins!" 

Feuilly only had time to laugh before Courfeyrac was hugging him and then his lips were on his and Feuilly promptly forgot how to breathe. The kiss only lasted for a moment though before Courfeyrac pulled away guiltily and stepped back. Nynette swooped in to hand him a sparkly pumpkin trophy. “Congrats!” She smiled, as she fixed his hat. “Sixth time’s the charm! Everyone give it up for this year’s champion in the adult category!” 

Joly, Bossuet, Grantaire and Musichetta were screaming loudly in the crowd and Feuilly gave a sweeping bow with his hat before climbing off the stage. 

He was roped into the obligatory photos for the website and bulletin board and then he was released to his friends. 

“Can we go to--” Courfeyrac began, uncharacteristically jittery, but Bossuet cut him off. 

“We have to wait for his fan club to find him first.” Bossuet was wearing Musichetta's sunglasses. She and Grantaire had gone as Wendy Peffercorn and Squints and had won first in the group category.   


Before Courfeyrac could do so much as question it, two boys came barreling over, throwing their arms around Feuilly. The next couple of hours were a blur of haunted houses and candy apples and pumpkin carving but then they were piling into a cab and heading to the Halloween Party.   
  
They all maintained radio silence with the rest of their friends to keep up the utmost suspense and so when they arrived, the room went quiet. Joly, in his Legends of the Hidden Temple get up, climbed up on the table.  
  
"Joly no--" Grantaire whispered but he just spread his arms out.  
  
"Holy _fuck_." Jehan gasped, and somehow he looked more fashionable now than he did in his normal attire, "he won." 

" _And_ \--" Joly continued and if he fell at least he was wearing a helmet and knee pads, "just to keep you all _informed_ \--Courfeyrac kissed him. Right on stage. Right in front of everyone."

"There's a great series of pictures on Facebook already." Musichetta announced as she poured them all a shot of something green and sparkling.  


Feuilly was thrown around the party as his friends did one shot after another and totally destroyed each other in Quidditch pong and Battleship (none of them could play normal drinking games). 

When the night was starting to get ridiculous, Courfeyrac found him and pulled him aside. "I'm so sorry about before--I was just really happy for you and--"

"It's fine. It's more than fine. Like you have great thighs that's the first thing I remember about you." 

"Really? So we're good?" 

Feuilly put his hands on Courfeyrac's shoulders, "we're great." 

"Want to dance?" 

"Bahorel's been playing a dubstep remix of Hedwig's Theme for a half hour but yeah. Of course." 

The pair was drunk enough to dance to the music but not when Bahorel changed it to Monster Mash and challenged Marius to a dance off. Courfeyrac made sure his friend was okay, although Marius stunned them all and proved that he could hold his own, and then he grabbed Feuilly and they collapsed on a couch to laugh at their friends. 

"I'd love to take you home." Courfeyrac half sung about an hour later and Feuilly rested his forehead against his and kissed him quickly.    
  
"Okay and I'm a hundred percent for what you're implying but I'm exhausted so maybe just some aggressive cuddling."  
  
Courfeyrac took Feuilly's hand after he kissed him again and pulled out the door, "deal." If any of their friends noticed them leaving together, which, honestly, given the state of the evening they might _not_ have, it'd just give them something to talk about as they nursed their hangovers.  



End file.
